Talk is Cheap
by MG12CSI16
Summary: "Look McGee, I know what it's like to walk around with something like this on your shoulders." "You've killed a cop before?" he asked. There was a hint of amusement in his voice and I couldn't help but laugh. Set post "Probie". Tony's point of view. 50th story!


My fiftieth story! A Tim/Tony friendship piece set post Probie, told from Tony's point of view. It's something a little different and hopefully you guys like it!

Don't forget to leave a review!

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

* * *

**Talk Is Cheap**

Something had been bothering me most of the day, something I couldn't seem to shake of no matter how hard I tried. I did everything I could think of to take my mind off of it, I played tetris, I scribbled on some old notepads I found in my desk, I even filled out some paperwork but nothing helped. I sat up straight and picked up a pen, just to make it look like I was working. I turned my head a little to look over at McGee.

He still looked a little jumpy and there was still a greyish tint to his skin. He had been cleared of killing that cop but I know he still blames himself. Hell he's just a kid, he probably has no idea what he's supposed to feel, let alone what to say or do. Maybe it's because I tease him or maybe it's because he's technically my partner but something in me feels like I need to protect him.

And not just from suspects and Gibbs wrath, sometimes I feel like I need to protect him from what goes on inside his head because I know how hard it can be when you feel like your carrying the world on your shoulders and no ones there to help. I've felt that way since I was a child, when my father told me it was my fault my mother died. I had Nannie's but none of them really listened, after all I'm pretty sure they were just there for the money and the incredibly high possibility that my father would take them to bed that night.

So for the rest of my childhood and most of my adult life I carried that around with me, and sometimes it threatened to break me. Alcohol became a big part of my life and I can't even count how many times I had shown up at a crime scene with a hangover. And I knew deep down that there was no way I could let that happen to McGee.

I know he had a rough childhood too, but something tells me he had a better support system than I did. But now he was alone, his parents are probably god knows where and he has no one to confide in. I remember when I finally told someone about my life as a kid, a department shrink that had been brought into PD after one of our raids had ended in the deaths of three officers. I was a wreck, and as much as I wanted to resent that shrink, call him every name I could think of I realized that that was my chance.

So I came clean, not just about the accident but about everything, and he was happy to listen. Granted, I still don't really like therapists and if it were up to me I would never talk to another one. And that memory made me realize that McGee needed exactly what I needed, he needed a vent. I thought about who that could be, there were more than enough options here anyways. I glanced at the others in the bullpen with me, trying to decide who would be the beat.

Gibbs already made his peace, telling McGee how he had let him down. Honestly I was surprised to even hear him say anything, let alone admit he had done something wrong and I knew there was nothing more for him to say. He could talk to Abby, although I don't know how much talking would be done on his part. I looked straight ahead at Ziva and I immediately counted her out without hesitation.

Yes she and McGee were friends, and yes we trusted her but something in me decided that this wasn't something Ziva would be helpful with, because to her killing wasn't a big deal. All in all I knew the task had fallen on me, but for once I didn't mind.

I looked up at the clock and was surprised to see it was already past five. The others were already grabbing their things and saying their goodbyes, looking at me with a questioning glance before walking to the elevator. Ziva and Gibbs caught the first one and before I could grab my bag McGee was already rushing to catch the next. Running after him I yelled out and smiled when he held the elevator open.

Deciding this was as good of a time as any I turned toward McGee and smiled even wider at him. He must have thought I was crazy, I could see his eyebrows knit together in confusion but he didn't say anything. I pursed my lips and thought, not exactly a great thing but I needed an idea.

"McGee," I finally said, a little happier than I had planned. "You wanna go get a drink? Maybe talk a little." he opened his mouth to argue but I quickly interjected.

"Look McGee, I know what it's like to walk around with something like this on your shoulders."

"You've killed a cop before?" he asked. There was a hint of amusement in his voice and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Uh, no. But if you wanna go get that drink I can tell you about it." I watched him consider this before a smile broke out on his face and he nodded.

"So this means we're friends now right?" he asked. I almost laughed at that question but the hopeful look on his face changed my mind. Instead I smiled and clapped him on the back.

"Yeah man, we're friends. Just don't think I'll stop making fun of you."


End file.
